


First Dance

by lifeaftermeteor



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bad Jokes, Bad Puns, Fluff, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Romance, Shiro (Voltron) is a Good Boyfriend, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 03:40:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18217697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeaftermeteor/pseuds/lifeaftermeteor
Summary: It’s their wedding and they’re surrounded by people who love them.  So why does Keith feel like he’s falling apart?  Thankfully, the man who knows him better than anyone is already in his arms.





	First Dance

**Author's Note:**

> For the #SoftSheithWeek’s final prompt (free day). Just barely in before the cut! I have a soft spot for Shiro and bad (great?) jokes, and so I offer up this humble contribution. Inspiration in equal parts found in Elvis’ “[Can’t Help Falling in Love](https://youtu.be/vGJTaP6anOU)” and The Civil Wars’ “[Disarm](https://youtu.be/Ux81QoIGTLw).” 
> 
> Also gracious thanks to all the artists out there who have graced us with such absolutely beautiful Sheith wedding pieces. You all are a blessing. <3 <3 <3
> 
> [UPDATE] [Taikodragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hana_ginkawa/pseuds/taikodragon) did a [podfic of this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19144120). Go give it a listen.

It was their wedding and they were joined on all sides by people who loved them.  Keith knew this—objectively speaking—but it didn’t do much to suppress the feeling that he was falling apart at the seams.  He had made it through all of the preparations leading up to this moment dry-eyed and mission-focused, had even made it through their vows without much fuss, but now…   

Now he sat with Shiro’s hand clasped tightly in his own, both of them sporting rings that hadn’t been on their fingers earlier in the day.  Shiro’s thumb kept sweeping over his knuckles in what Keith knew he meant to be a comforting gesture, sensing something amiss; but every pass frayed his edges further. Keith could feel himself coming apart, overwrought and overwhelmed.  At last, of course, _now_ , when the hardest parts had been surpassed and all that was left for the evening was the celebration itself.  Keith bit down on the inside of his cheek in order to keep his lip from trembling.  

“You okay?” 

The whisper was so soft, meant for Keith’s ears only, and it nearly broke him right then and there.  He sucked down the whimper that crept up his throat and nodded, avoiding Shiro’s questing gaze.  He trained his eyes instead on the hand in his own, how their fingers were interlaced, how the rings looked right and wrong all at the same time.  Suddenly it became very difficult to breathe. 

It was at this moment that the opening chords of a familiar song drifted through the air around them.  Their first song, first dance.  He felt Shiro’s fingers clench around his own, a silent question, a reassurance.  Keith gave him a half-hearted smile.  He stood before Shiro could question him and with his husband’s— _yes, husband’s!_ —hand held tight in his own, he led the two of them out onto the dance floor. 

But then standing together, surrounded by onlookers, Keith felt the dynamic between them shift.  Shiro guided his hand to his shoulder, the metal cap over his Garrison dress uniform cool to touch, while he settled his Altean hand against the small of his back.  He then took Keith’s right hand in his left...and led. 

This...this hadn’t been what they rehearsed.   

Seeming to sense Keith’s hesitance, Shiro ducked his head to catch his eyes and murmured, “Trust me.” 

And Keith did.  Without question.  Clenching his teeth, he swallowed past the sudden tightness in his throat and tried to ignore the way his hands trembled.  But oh...oh, it was too much.  Led across the dance floor by the man who knew him better than himself.  Cherished and protected and lucky and safe and _loved_ … Keith felt the first telltale pricks behind his eyes as tears threatened and pressed his lips into a thin line, _willing_ them to _stop_.  But, but, but they wouldn’t, _couldn’t_.  With a shuddering gasp, he pitched forward into Shiro’s shoulder, seeking solace and hoping against hope that the others couldn’t see the way he shook.   

Shiro was a solid thing against him.  Keith hid his eyes in the curve of his neck and tried to focus, to breathe, to pull himself together.  As they swayed in time with the music, he felt Shiro duck his head down towards him, his lips moving against the shell of his ear. 

“How does a guy cut his hair on the moon? Eclipse it.” 

The world seemed to stutter to a sudden, screeching halt as the gears in Keith’s head were soundly stripped.  His thoughts utterly derailed, his breath caught in his throat.  

There was a tender kiss to his hair and then Shiro’s lips returned, breath ghosting over his skin.  “Why couldn’t the astro-explorer focus?  Because he kept spacing out.” 

Bewildered, Keith asked, “What are you doing?” 

“Well as you know,” Shiro answered, “I make horrible science puns, but only periodically.” 

Keith snorted, feeling the beginnings of a smile grace his lips in spite of himself.  It was an awful, _terrible_ joke.  All of them were.  But somehow despite this fact, he felt the trembling subside, the steps to their dance coming easier, the ache in his chest easing… 

“How do you know when the moon has gone broke?” Shiro asked him then.   

“I don’t know,” Keith told him, his voice weak and raw with emotion.  He turned his head and rested his cheek against Shiro’s shoulder.  “How?” 

“When it's down to its last quarter.”   

Keith groaned as if in pain and rolled his eyes.  He focused on the music that drifted around them, the heat from Shiro’s body pressed against him, the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.  With a sigh, he straightened once more and Shiro’s lips pressed a chaste kiss to his temple.  But then— 

“Keith, I’ve got another one.” 

“Stop—” 

“But Keith!” 

“Don’t—” 

“How do you organize a space wedding?” 

“Shiro, don’t you dare—” 

“You _planet_.” 

And it was enough, gloriously enough.  Keith laughed, eyes clenched shut and head falling back on his shoulders, defeated.  All of the emotion tied up and tied down within him was released in a sudden, delightful outburst.  After he had recovered somewhat, he craned his neck up and captured Shiro’s lips with his own in an insistent, adoring kiss.   

“Better?” Shiro whispered against his lips when they parted, voice somber and thoughtful once again.   

Keith pulled away just enough to meet his eyes, grinning hard enough for his cheeks to ache.  Shiro’s gray eyes searched his own as they swayed together on the dance floor.  The Altean hand at his back pressed harder against his spine, a reminder of the strength it and its owner possessed.  An offering of support or protection, whichever he required.  Keith’s smile softened and he raised a hand from Shiro’s shoulder to his cheek.  “Yes, better,” he answered.  “Thank you.”  

Shiro returned the smile, the corners of his eyes scrunching and betraying the hints of crow’s feet to come.  He turned into the hand at his cheek, kissing Keith’s palm.  As the hand fell back to his shoulder, he pressed their foreheads together and let the music guide them.   

Closing his eyes, Keith sighed and let the rest of the universe slip away.


End file.
